Kat French - A Summer Scandal - The perfect summer read by the author of One Day in December

She was her own best advert; she adjusted all of her vintage buys to fit her curves perfectly, and made many of the hair accessories herself from feathers and jewels left over from her latest commission. Her business was starting to gather a reputation; she was making a name for herself in the costume world as someone whose eye for detail and carefully honed skills created wonderfully intricate showgirl outfits and feather headdresses. Boned silk corsets, sequinned hot-pants, feather and rhinestone bras. She was carving her own niche, and one day she hoped – no, she planned – to supply costumes to the legendary Moulin Rouge. It was the Holy Grail; one day she’d walk under that famous, glittering red windmill and see her costumes up there on that famous old Parisian stage.

Right now though, she had more immediate concerns. She needed her parents to accept that she was going to spend the summer in Swallow Beach; her every instinct told her that it was the right thing to do. She could work from there as easily as from here; there was bound to be space in her grandparents’ apartment for her to set up a temporary sewing room. Was it fanciful? Maybe. Was it sudden? Yes. But she was going to do it nonetheless, and she’d really like to do it with her parents’ blessing.

‘I don’t want to redecorate Simon’s house, Mum.’ His house was a minimal temple of neutral shades; the last thing he’d want would be Violet’s jewelled hues and eye for colour un-minimalising his home.

‘Fine. Buy a new home. That’s exciting, Violet! Buy a house, a big Victorian one you can do up. You’d love that, right?’

Vi shrugged. Who wouldn’t?

‘In fact, move in next door! It’s perfect. We won’t sell Grandpa’s house, you can move in there with Simon instead. Go wild with the decorating.’

Violet’s father looked at his wife, clearly alarmed. The proceeds from Henry’s house was their retirement plan; he loved his daughter and of course he’d love it if she wanted to stay so close, but his spreadsheet would be buggered, as would his grand plan to take Della on a walking tour of the Scottish Highlands. He’d have to keep working, there was nothing else for it.

‘Mum, it’s a lovely thought and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, but no. Next door would remind me too much of Grandpa Henry. Besides, Simon loves his house, he wouldn’t want to leave it.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Violet saw her dad sag with relief and shot him a small smile. She knew how much he was relying on the sale of next door; she wouldn’t dream of taking up her mum’s offer. Della knew too, really; she was just clutching at any straw going because the idea of Violet going to Swallow Beach filled her with trepidation. Bad things happened to people at Swallow Beach. That bloody pier! Why had her father hung onto the past? God knew their memories of the place weren’t good ones.

‘Look Mum,’ Violet said, keeping her voice light. ‘Why don’t you come with me for a few days, have a look what state everything is in? It might not even be possible to stay if it’s as bad as you think.’

Della had implied that both the pier and the apartment were sure to have gone to rack and ruin, and if that was the case then Violet was going to need to revise her plans. She watched as her mother’s expression changed from obstinate to fearful, alarmed when Della sank into the nearest chair with her head in her hands.

‘I can’t go back there,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry Violet. I just can’t. Please don’t ask it of me.’

Why had her grandpa hung onto the place? He mustn’t have felt the same feelings of fear and hatred as her mum, or surely he’d have sold it on, severed his connections. Della had been only a child when they’d left, her perception of the events would have been very different to Henry’s, of course. And to Monica’s. Violet felt torn, conflicted; the last thing she wanted to do was upset her lovely mum, but the pull towards Swallow Beach was, out of nowhere, overwhelmingly powerful.

‘I need to do this, Mum.’ She knelt beside Della and laid her head against her mother’s knee. ‘I promise I’ll be careful, and you’re probably right that it’s a fool’s mission, but I still need to go and see it for myself. I’m twenty-five, Mum, and I know you think I’ve lost my mind not to accept Simon’s proposal, but I can’t help how my heart feels. Or doesn’t feel.’

‘He’s deferred it,’ her father chipped in. ‘He’s going to wait for you until you come back. A lot on at work anyway, he said.’

Violet wasn’t sure if her dad’s comments were meant to be supportive to her or helpful to her mum. The latter, presumably, because the idea of someone deferring their proposal due to the pressures of stock-taking season was about as unromantic as it got. Rhett Butler, it wasn’t. She’d watched Gone with the Wind countless times, mostly for the fabulous boned and feathered costumes, but also for the sweeping, epic – if somewhat unconventional – romance. It might not be a typical love story, but Violet kind of liked it all the more for that because she wasn’t a typical kind of girl. She had spiky edges and a taste for adventure; Swallow Beach was calling, and she had no choice but to answer.

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